‘Uh...of course not,’ he said. ‘But is it OK if I stay here until I can arrange something else?’
‘Of course.’ After she’d finished tidying up, she headed to the door that led to her part of the house, but paused and turned to look at him. ‘I’m guessing you’re not used to being sociable and chummy with your work colleagues?’
‘Did Melody tell you that?’ He was annoyed with his sister and didn’t disguise it.
‘No. Your manner does.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes. It tells me that you’re used to being respected, to not having your decisions questioned and that you don’t particularly like interacting with subordinates.’
If he’d been uncomfortable before with the way she just blurted out her thoughts, it was nothing compared to now, and it was mainly because she’d hit the nail right on the head. In a matter of hours of their first meeting, CJ Nicholls had seen right through to the heart of him and it completely unnerved him.
‘Ethan, if it makes you feel better, stay somewhere else and only interact with the staff and patients when absolutely necessary. So long as my practice is in one piece when I get back from maternity leave, I don’t care what else happens.’
‘I’ve upset you,’ he stated.
‘No.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘I’m not angry or annoyed, Ethan. I feel sorry for you. I thought we could be friends, but it’s OK if that’s not the case.’
‘Look, Dr Nicholls, all I want for the next six months is to get out of bed, do my job and spend my evenings in peace.’
She stared at him for a long moment before nodding. ‘OK. If that’s the way you want it, that’s fine.’ There was no anger in her tone, no girlish outrage, but there was definitely a hint of pity, which was the last thing he wanted. ‘Goodnight, Ethan. I hope you’re able to sleep.’ With that, she headed through the door that led to her part of the house.
Ethan stood in the kitchen for a while longer, pondering their conversation. He’d survived pity before. He’d been the source of gossip, people whispering in the corner, stopping whenever he walked by, then starting up again the instant he left. He’d locked himself away, just as he’d locked his belongings away and it had been working...until he’d met CJ Nicholls.
It really did leave him with one major question—should he stay, or should he go?
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN SHE WOKE on Saturday morning, CJ felt as though she’d been put through the wringer. She turned on her side, swung her legs over the edge of the bed and slowly pushed herself upright, keeping her eyes closed in an effort to stop the spinning sensation.
Gradually opening her eyes, she tried to focus but it was no good and a wave of nausea hit with force. She clamped a hand over her mouth and rushed to her bathroom. Once her early morning dash was over, she showered and dressed, beginning to feel much better, even though she was already exhausted.
‘No one said the last trimester was easy,’ she mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen.
‘Feeling better?’
She stopped. Ethan was sitting at the kitchen table dressed in a pair of casual trousers and navy cotton shirt, eating a stack of pancakes drowned in maple syrup. She sniffed appreciatively and smiled as she walked over to the stove.
‘Yes, thank you. I guess baby didn’t want the pickles, chocolate spread and bananas after all. These, however, smell delicious.’
‘You still want to eat after...being sick?’ There was concern in his tone.
‘I do. Once the morning sickness has passed, I’m usually fine—’ She chuckled. ‘That is until the next time I eat something baby doesn’t appreciate.’ CJ peered at the pancake batter in the jug. ‘So does this mean you know how to cook?’
‘It does. Please, help yourself.’
CJ did just that and soon was sitting down with one pancake, drowning her own in real maple syrup. ‘Mmm. These are heavenly, and if you decide that you do want to stay here for the next six months, feel free to make these any time.’
By now, Ethan had finished his breakfast and was stacking the dishwasher. ‘Are you usually sick in the morning?’ His tone was one of doctorly concern.
‘No. Not really. I mean it depends on what I’ve snacked on around three o’clock in the morning.’
‘That’s your usual middle-of-the-night routine?’
‘At the moment, but some advice I was given regarding children is that just when you think you’ve got them into a routine, they change it. So I’m not holding out because Junior here changes his, or her, mind almost as much as I do.’
‘You don’t know the baby’s sex?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m more than happy to be surprised.’
‘And you’ve spoken to your obstetrician about your morning sickness?’
CJ angled her head to the side, surprised to hear the hint of real concern in his tone. ‘You’re concerned about me?’
‘Naturally. You’re a pregnant woman, I’m a doctor. It’s part and parcel of who I am.’
She chuckled at that. ‘I hear you wholeheartedly. I can’t go to a restaurant without silently diagnosing the people sitting around me.’
‘OK, then you understand that I’m only asking these questions because I’m professionally concerned?’
‘I do.’ She nodded. ‘And although I know all the ins and outs of pregnancy and giving birth from a doctorly perspective, going through the process is giving me a whole new perspective.’ She took a mouthful of pancakes, savouring the flavours. After swallowing, she continued. ‘I’ve come to realise that my pregnancy doesn’t run parallel to many of the medical texts but then, as Donna has said, each pregnancy is different and with mine, morning sickness has been sporadic throughout, not just in the first trimester. Even now, with only a few weeks to go, my appetite is as hearty as it’s always been.’ She smiled.
‘And just to appease your concern, my blood pressure is fine, my ankles aren’t
